


Gossamer Dreams

by weepingangel



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingangel/pseuds/weepingangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fluffy ficlets featuring the Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, and domestics.  </p><p>Because every forever feels like it will last for an eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor discovers a new food.

The Doctor wrinkled his nose in distaste, corners of his mouth turned down in a classic Time Lord scowl of disapproval.

“ _What_ is _that_?” he demanded of Rose, leaning back in his chair to escape the offending fruit.

Rose sighed and withdrew her outstretched palm.  “Doctor.  It’s a pear.  It’s edible.  How many times do I hafta tell you before you believe me?”

“ _That_ is not fit for Time Lord consumption.”

Rose rolled her eyes for perhaps the thousandth time in the past ten minutes.  “ _You_ are being a child.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“900 years of time and space and I’ve never even heard of _pears._ ”

Rose cocked an eyebrow at him and said nothing, causing the Doctor to huff noisily and glare out the open window in a manner he clearly considered to be the absolute image of majestic dignity.  The way the golden sunlight illuminated the blond streaks in her— _the_ —Time Lord’s hair was indeed a majestic sight, but Rose did not deign to inform him of the fact.  Instead, she ignored him completely and went back to munching on her pear.

The Doctor, his chair now tipped back so far it appeared to defy gravity, folded his arms defiantly to regain her attention.

“I _hate_ pears.”

Rose rolled her eyes so forcefully she briefly thought they might get stuck to the back of her head.

“You’ve never even tried one.”

“So?”

Sitting there with a pout on his face and a glint in his eye, Rose found the Doctor completely irresistible.  Not that she’d ever let him know that, either; she absolutely did _not_ find his 900-year-old-toddler antics at all endearing.

The Oncoming Storm dared to meet Rose Tyler’s amused gaze just as her lips curled into a devilish smirk.  Apprehension dawned in his eyes, but Rose had already launched herself out of her chair.  She thrust the pear slice at him threateningly.

“Doctor. Try it.”

The Last of the Time Lords hissed and attempted to flee, but only succeeded in tipping his chair over.  He and his companion emitted identical squeaks of alarm as, grabbing her wrist for balance, the Doctor pulled Rose down with him.  The Doctor took the opportunity to wrestle the now-mangled pear slice from her hand and tossed it across the room, snorting in triumph.

“Doc- _tor_ ,” Rose scolded him.

“What?” he asked, looking up at her innocently.

Sprawled across him, Rose glared up at the Doctor through a tuft of hair to hide her blush.  His hand drifted almost imperceptibly lower, brushing the bare skin where her shirt had ridden up.

Still holding her wrist, the Doctor brought her hand to his face and surveyed her fingers carefully.  Like a suspicious cat, he sniffed disparagingly before licking the pear juice from her palm.

An expression of wonder crossed the Time Lord’s face and his tongue darted out again to taste Rose’s fingers, but she had already scrambled off of him, regaining her dignified position at the table.  She looked down at the Doctor’s dazed expression with more smugness than anyone had the right to possess.

“Toldja so.”


	2. Hullo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor has nightmares, and Rose comforts him.

Rose flinched when, from the hallway, she heard the Doctor cry out in his sleep. She paused, as she had every night for the past few weeks, and stared at his door. It had always been locked, and she dared not ask the TARDIS to open it, afraid it would be a betrayal of the Time Lord’s precious trust.

She might have continued to the kitchen for her nightly cuppa, but the Doctor cried out again and this time she could make out the words. Rose; her name was spoken with such agony and longing that Rose actually stretched a hand out to the door.

Crying now, barely audible, drifted through the door. It seemed like a century that Rose stood there, shivering in her nightshirt and undies, with arm raised as if to knock. 

Eventually, she pushed the door experimentally, expecting it to not budge. To her surprise, it slid open silently at her touch.

Rose entered, hardly daring to look around. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in the Doctor’s bedroom, but the only other time she had been so injured she was barely coherent. When he let out a plaintive sob, she rushed to the bed, taking his hand in hers. 

“Doctor, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Lost in the grip of his nightmare, the Doctor couldn’t hear her.

She smoothed the hair back from his sweaty forehead before putting her hand gently on his cheek. The Doctor whimpered softly and turned his face into her palm, seeking comfort instinctively. 

Leaning over him, Rose put her head on the Doctor’s chest and listened to the too-fast beating of his hearts. 

“Oh, Doctor,” she whispered, heart aching for the demons he still battled; demons which she was powerless to vanquish. She lost count of the minutes she stayed like that, one hand stroking the back of his neck while the other drew gently circles on his palm. 

Shivering, Rose looked at the sleeping Time Lord before she wriggled herself under the bedspread, telling herself she’d leave as soon as he quieted and she might as well be warm in the meantime. 

She barely restrained a yelp, though, when her leg touched bare flesh. Was he--? Cautiously, Rose slid her hand down his torso and heaved a sigh of relief to find that the Doctor was indeed wearing pants, though the lack of trousers was more than she’d expected to have to deal with.

The Doctor murmured something and slid his hand around Rose’s waist, pulling her closer to him. She hardly dared to breathe, and after a moment he reached up to bury his other hand in her hair. He inhaled deeply and nuzzled into her collarbone, pressing his lips to her neck. Rose hugged him tighter; he seemed to relax then, and against her will Rose could feel herself fading, too…

She awoke with a start to the feeling of soft lips against hers. Rose opened her eyes to morning sunlight streaming in through the artificial window and the Doctor’s face just centimeters from hers. When he opened his eyes and saw she was awake, the Time Lord blushed furiously.

Rose smiled at him as helplessly as always. “Hullo.”

The Doctor broke into the widest, most lopsided grin she’d ever seen in her life. “Hello.”


	3. Leo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor and Rose find themselves a pet.

“Doc- _tor_.”

The Time Lord sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  He knew that look in Rose Tyler’s eyes and he knew that tone of voice. 

This was a Rose Tyler who was going to get her way.

He sighed again for effect and surveyed his companion tiredly.  As if _Mickey_ wasn’t bad enough, now she wanted to adopt _yet another_ useless creature.  There was only so much a Time Lord could take, after all.

But he gave in anyway, as he always did when Rose wanted something.  “Fine,” he growled.  “We can keep him.”

Rose gave a shriek of delight and beamed up at him.  The little furball in her arms yipped suddenly as he woke from a deep slumber, but snuggled closer to his new friend and promptly fell back asleep.  The Doctor shuddered.

“But,” he continued grumpily, “he stays _out_ of my console room.  I’ll program him a yard, a park even, but I’ll not have little... _canines_ rampaging about.”

If it was possible, Rose grinned even more brightly, and the Doctor wondered how he had ever got it into his head to deny her anything.

Unexpectedly, she hugged him, sheltering the puppy in the crook of one arm while she stood on tip-toe to wrap the other around his neck. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said into his shoulder.

“Rose Tyler, you will be the death of me,” he grumbled to the top of her head.

As they turned back to the TARDIS, the Doctor eyed the collie dog enviously.  Unappreciative of his good fortune, he had now dared to snuggle further into Rose’s jacket until only the tip of his tail was exposed.

“Why Doctor,” Rose teased with her tongue between her teeth, “I do believe you’re _jealous_.”

The Doctor spluttered a bit, indignant.  “I am not _jealous_ of your _pet_.”                             

Rose smirked.  “ _Our_ pet.”

“Fine.  Our pet.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “Although he’s really not even a proper pet, he doesn’t have a name.”

Rose looked straight ahead innocently.  “Of course he does.  His name’s Leo.”

“Leo,” the Doctor repeated flatly, stopping dead in his tracks.  He studied his companion for a moment before he tugged on his ear in confusion and marched onwards.

When Rose looked up at him, though, she saw a smile tugging at his lips. 


	4. Carry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose is injured.

Rose struggled to keep tears from falling as she stood on one leg, clutching the Doctor’s arm to hold herself upright.  Fiery pain prevented her from moving it, but she could feel every nerve crying out and the blood soaking through her sock.

The Doctor winced when she looked at him petulantly.  “You _shot_ me,” she moaned plaintively before her other leg collapsed under her and he was forced to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Shhhh,” he soothed as he lowered her to a sitting position in order to bind her leg.  He used his tie to do so, a process which caused Rose to whimper faintly.

As he lifted her in his arms, she caught sight of the alien that had previously been attached to her leg.  It lay in the street, blackened and oozing a pinkish slime.  Rose turned her head into the Doctor’s chest, sickened, and grasped at his shirt for support.  She clenched a fistful of fabric to herself, desperate to hold on to anything.

For once in her life, Rose Tyler allowed herself to be carried more than a few feet.  In addition to the pain, it was cold out, and she drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity.  At one point, she could faintly hear the strains of a beautiful melody, sung hauntingly in a language she couldn’t understand.  She reached for the stars, but they floated out of her grasp.

Rose smelled rather than saw the TARDIS when they finally arrived, a combination of hot cocoa and Doctor-scent which never failed to make her feel at peace.

She was set down on a bench in the room and the Doctor began unwrapping her leg in silence.  Rose gazed blearily at the top of his head.

“You were _singing_ ,” she mumbled at him, trying to make sense of it all.

The Doctor looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye.  “Nonsense.  Time Lords don’t _sing_.”

Rose glared at him as he stuck a shot of something into her calf.  “You were,” she insisted.  “I _heard_ you.”

The Time Lord in question smiled and said nothing, rewrapping her leg in a bandage made of unidentifiable purple stuff.  When he got to his feet, Rose raised her arms expectantly.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow.  “I’ve seen fingers regrown in this amount of time.  Your leg should be fine to walk on.”

Rose pouted up at him and the Doctor huffed before picking her up again.  She tried to stifle a giggle, but failed miserably, instead letting out a snorting laugh that echoed down the hallway.  When she regained control again by reminding herself that she was supposed to be grievously injured, she noted a strange rumbling sound.  Mildly concerned, she looked up at the ceiling of the TARDIS to see if it was going to cave in or something.

Looking at the Doctor’s studiously neutral face, Rose realized it wasn’t the TARDIS after all.

It was the Doctor’s attempt to stifle his own laughter.  He was _purring._


	5. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor and Rose go swimming.

Rose shivered violently in the bitter wind that swept across the cliff face and glared ferociously at the Doctor. _He_ appeared to be perfectly warm, content to brave any weather with his _superior Time Lord biology_.  

He grinned at her from the edge of the cliff, unfazed by her foul mood.  “Come on, Rose.  It’ll be _fun_.”

The grouchy blonde peered dubiously at the silvery-turquoise water below.  It swirled gently with a faint luminescence, a sharp and inexplicable contrast to the gray skies above.  Leaping into any liquid, however pretty, was _not_ her idea of fun.  Any such action would, in any case, require the air temperature to be at least thirty degrees.

“It’s _wet_ ,” she observed.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.  “Well, ye- _es_.”  He began unbuttoning his jacket.

Rose looked at him with an expression he could only describe as one of irritated terror.

“What are you _doing_?”

“Well,” the Time Lord said as he dropped his tie to the ground, “you can’t possibly expect me to go swimming in _clothes_.”

Rose huffed and folded her arms defiantly, turning away from the wind.  “I’m not going.”

“But _Rose_ ,” the Doctor pleaded, jumping on one foot as he pulled a shoe off of the other.

“Nope.”

After a few more grunts and awkward leaps, the Doctor succeeded in disrobing himself and sat down at the edge of the cliff, letting his legs dangle into empty space.  Rose looked down at him suspiciously, but he just stared up at her with a calm expression.

"Rose Tyler,” he asked seriously, "do you trust me?"

They surveyed each other for a long moment, the naked Time Lord and the shivering human.

"You know I do,” Rose replied.  She surveyed the drop nervously before backing away and slowly unzipping her hoodie.  With considerably more grace than the alien now swinging his legs off the edge of a cliff joyfully, she stripped off her jeans.  When she came to stand next to him once more, teeth chattering, the Doctor bounded to his feet, drawing breath to give her a lecture, no doubt, on the many benefits of skinny dipping in a lake that looked like it’d been filled with watered-down nail polish.  

Instead, however, he shot her a sideways glance, swallowed, and snatched her clothes.  Tucking them under his arm, he took her by the hand and leapt.

They both screamed as they fell.

To her surprise, Rose found that the mercurial water was divinely warm.  Gently bubbling and smelling of fruit, it felt like silk rustling across her skin.  A feeling of pure bliss washed through her and she let out a sigh of pleasure, contentment marred only by her absolutely _infuriating_ companion.

When the Doctor surfaced next to her, accompanied by a tidal wave, Rose shrieked and splashed him.

He reeled back in indignant surprise.  “What was _that_ for?” he demanded.

Rose practically hissed at the smug smirk he was desperately trying to hide.  “You could have _told_ me it would be warm.”

The Doctor, treading water, adopted his most aristocratic air.  “Now that would have ruined it, wouldn’t it?”

Rose supposed it probably would have, but she splashed him again anyway.  Before her efforts could reach him, however, he took a huge breath and disappeared.  She backpedaled frantically, peering into the sparkling depths, before she was yanked under by a firm grip on her ankle.

When she emerged, sputtering, the Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist and held her against his chest.  Lazily, he drifted backwards until, settling against the wall of the basin, he could properly entangle his pink-and-yellow-girl in a fierce embrace.

Brushing her soggy hair to one side, the Doctor pressed his lips to the back of Rose’s neck; she shivered again, but not from the cold.


	6. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor and Rose experience a typical Doctor-and-Rose-adventure.

The Doctor skidded around a corner, dragging Rose by the hand.  Behind them, the shouts of confused guards echoed off the stone walls.  Rose, clad in a pale blue dress with innumerable layers, struggled to remain upright as they followed the twisting corridor through the depths of the fortress.  Turning another corner, the two were confronted with yet more guards, weapons bared and at the ready.

Rose yanked the Doctor violently to the right, pulling him into a dimly lit corridor and through a series of tapestries.  He followed without question, but stopped dead when the hallway simply ended, in an irritatingly blank gray wall.

“Oh, great,” he griped.  “Rose Tyler, you’re a veritable _compass_.”

“Shut up, you.  If I can just find—Richard showed me yesterday—.” She began poking at the spaces between the bricks, searching for, he assumed, some kind of door.

The Doctor made a noise that was something between a groan and a scoff.  “So he’s _Richard_ now, is he?”  His voice had darkened almost imperceptibly and Rose shot him a sideways glare without pausing in her probing of the wall.

“It was _your_ idea, you know—ah, there we are.”

Rose stepped back in satisfaction as a heavy door creaked open, maneuvered by a system of gears and weights.  Behind it lay a wooden staircase.  Above the first few stairs, the Doctor could not see, as the light from the sole arrow slit reached only so far.  Obviously knowing where she was going, Rose scampered nimbly upwards, yanking on a rope as she ran past it.  The door swung shut and the Doctor followed on her heels as they ascended into darkness.

When she emerged from the passageway, Rose froze, blinking rapidly in the bright light from the open windows and blazing fireplace.  The Doctor yelped when he crashed into her, but caught her by the shoulder before she could topple forward.

“His _bedroom_ ,” the Doctor whined.  “Ro-ose—.”  He was cut off when she elbowed him in the gut.

His Majesty Richard II, King of England, stood before them with a hand on his sword.

“Rose,” he acknowledged coldly.  The Doctor, he eyed with disdain.

The Time Lord stepped in front of his human aggressively, causing Rose to huff in exasperation.  She could hear more guards clanking up the no-longer-secret stairs; this was no time for testosterone-fueled games.

She kicked the Doctor’s ankle, causing him to wince.  He looked from her to the King and back to her again, eyes full of a fire he rarely allowed to be seen.  For a moment, he was again the Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Words, Bringer of Darkness, but he softened when Rose didn’t appear to be abandoning him for some puny monarch.  A faint grin flitted across his face and he offered her his hand.

“Run?”

Rose Tyler took it, as she always had and always would.

“Run," she agreed.


	7. Last Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor is in charge of the Christmas cookies.

Rose peered around the Doctor curiously as he cursed again at the mixing bowl before him.  Against her better judgement, she’d allowed the Time Lord full access to her mum’s pantry, and it appeared to be the countertops which would bear the consequences.

She winced as he banged the bowl in an attempt to “settle” the cookie dough.

“Y’know, Doctor,” Rose said cautiously, “it does work just as well if you stir gently.”

He glanced over his shoulder disdainfully. “Rose Tyler, I _invented_ cookies. Well, I say invented, I really mean inspired.  Greatly inspired.  Germany, 1690.  They were doing it _all wrong_...”

The Doctor trailed off, distracted by some flutter of thought.  Rose hopped up on the counter next to him and surveyed the disaster zone as he continued struggling with his creation.  A broken pair of tongs lay skewed across a mangled spoon, and a measuring cup full of eggshells sat upside down atop an empty bag of chocolate chips.  Flour dusted everything, despite his efforts to brush it into a tidy pile.

When she looked up at the Time Lord’s face, Rose snorted.

He whipped his head up, affronted.  “What _now_?”

Rose, shaking with mirth, pointed to the glossy tiles above the sink.  The Doctor followed her gesture and saw his reflection; his eyes widened in horror.

The entire front of his hair white where he’d run his hands through it.  Powder coated his cheeks like freckles and there was a trail streaking from his right shoulder to his tie.  He rubbed at his jacket, but only succeeding in spreading the mess.

Rose picked up a pinch of flour from the counter and dropped it on his left side.  

“There you go,” she smirked.  “Now you match, at least.”

The Doctor glared at his companion, which did not intimidate her in the slightest.

Of course, a TIme Lord could not let such an affront to his dignity go unavenged, so he grabbed the nearest handful of flour and threw it in Rose’s general direction.  

She realized a moment too late what was happening and the handful of powder hit her in the shoulder mid-duck.  It exploded, engulfing her and her _black_ sweater in a cloud of white.  Rose shrieked and leapt off the counter.

They saw the unopened bag at the same time, made eye contact, and lunged.

Rose got there first and ripped it in half, spilling only a bit on her leg.  She spun and thrust the dissected sack of flour at the Doctor.  It was a surprisingly successful attack and resulted in a thoroughly shocked and annoyed-looking alien.  He grabbed an armful of the stuff and held it above her head threateningly.  Rose dodged around him and attempted to flee; he let it fall on her head as they were alerted to Jackie Tyler’s presence by the clatter of shopping bags falling to the floor.

Time ground to a halt.  The Doctor stared at Jackie in terror.  Jackie stared at the remnants of her kitchen in dismay.  Her glare could have frozen the deserts of Sarn and when she fixed it upon the Time Lord in her kitchen, he gulped.

Eventually, she threw her arms up in disgust and stalked from the room.  The Doctor sighed in relief.

A soft thump was heard as Jackie threw herself on the couch with a huff of frustration.

“Since you two like cooking so much, I’m putting you in charge of Christmas dinner!”

 


	8. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor has a quest to show Rose every sunrise in the universe.

Rose gingerly extracted herself from the Doctor’s coat, yawning, and looked down at the Time Lord fondly.  He grunted in displeasure and snuggled deeper into the nest of coverings.  A bit of his color was returning, but he still looked uncharacteristically disheveled.  Their travels had finally taken them to a climate in which he couldn’t prance about in trainers and a suit; the ice moons of Brus. 

Adventuring had, therefore, been postponed indefinitely, and they’d returned to the TARDIS for recovery showers and tea. 

The painful cold was almost worth the bliss of sitting on a couch encased in several layers of Time Lord and blanket, but not quite, and Rose’s aching muscles now urged her to find a real bed.

“S’alright Doctor,” Rose reassured him when he opened his mouth (he’d apologized _at least_ 50 times already). “I’m just about ready for sleep anyways.”

The Doctor wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and got to his feet, pulling Rose with him.  If she leaned into him a little as he struggled to hold two mugs in one hand, it was _purely_ by accident.

When he wrapped his free arm around her, Rose buried her face in his chest and made a small noise of contentment.  The Doctor hugged her more tightly.

“Goodnight, Rose Tyler.”

Rose pulled back and smiled at him.

“Night.”

He watched as she padded off in the direction of her bedroom before letting the blanket fall from his shoulders and wandering towards the console room.

The TARDIS lights were dimmed for the night, but the Doctor didn’t need them.  He knew every inch of his ship’s console and could have managed to pilot her blindfolded.  A smile still played across his lips as he leaned on the jump seat and silently ran his tongue over her name.  _Rose_.

Not even the Doctor’s vast vocabulary could create a more meaningful title than the name she’d already had.  Bad Wolf, Defender of the Earth, even the Sun Goddess (That one had been after he’d accidentally crashed them into the middle of Stonehenge, early 11th century B.C.  It was most definitely _not_ his fault) were nothing compared to Rose Tyler.  Rose, his brilliant, shining, human, who’d shown him more wonders than he’d dreamed possible, was forever seared on his hearts.

Florana, maybe, would be best.  He’d give a pink-and-yellow sunrise to his pink-and-yellow girl.

Rose, of course, thought the sunrises were just projections.  His ninth self had told her that once, and it wasn’t like he could change the story now.  The whole thing was stupid and sentimental, anyway.

The Absolutely-Never-Sentimental Doctor threw open the doors and stepped outside.  He inhaled deeply.  Just after midnight, Florana time.  He estimated that there were ten hours until the sun would rise, twisted tendrils of golden light reaching down to bathe infinite fields of magenta flowers in a warm embrace.  The sunrise would greet Rose Tyler with the same gentle kiss, dusting her cheeks with pixie dust.

Rose would blink her eyes open and stretch lazily.  Her tousled hair would practically _glow_ as she rubbed the dreams from her eyes.

Tearing himself away from images of sleepy Rose—in _bed_ —the Doctor gave the landscape a last glance before retreating inside.  Programming the TARDIS was easy, as she knew what he wanted by now.  She’d been confused the first time; in 900 years of time and space, he’d never before bothered to change the floor plan from its default.

Rose’s bedroom windows would take the place of the TARDIS doors, and in ten hours she would wake up to a brand new sunrise.

The Doctor had promised her the stars, and he intended to give her all of them.


End file.
